Break-in at the Batcave
by Landscaper01
Summary: One-shot followup to So Familiar, So Unknown. Bruce returns to Gotham to take care of unfinished business, with Selina hot on his heels. How will he react to finding her where he least expected? Mature content.


**AN: **As promised, here is my first one-shot followup to _So Familiar, So Unknown_. You don't _have_ to read that to make full sense of this, but it picks up a few months after that story left off, even if the main point of this one-shot is nothing but porny BatCat fluff. See, I've been so inspired by a particular tumblr photoset I saw months back ( post/31691188937/break-in-at-the-batcave) that I knew I COULDN'T possibly pass up the opportunity to eventually work that photoset into a BatCat fic. Many of you know my writing, though, and know that I have to have SOME semblance of a plot, otherwise I don't get the inspiration to actually put my ideas on paper.  
Anyway, this chapter gives you a glimpse at both Selina & Bruce AND at Batman & Selina, so I hope it satisfies the craving any of you have had for our favourite caped crusader to reappear. I also dedicate this chapter to my favourite readers ireneselina, Slingblade125 and to Team Damon, whose original Bruce & Selina cave sex in her fabulous story _You Look Better in Pearls _cannot be topped!

As always, I love me some feedback. Even if some of you think I went a little "over the top" with this, I'd rather get feedback and know who loved/hated it so if I get the itch to write another follow-up a month or two down the line, I'll know I still have an audience! :) Also, for any new readers of mine, PLEASE heed the strong M-rating. Anywhere else, this would be a strong **NC-17** rating.

* * *

**Break-in At The Batcave **

As autumn approached, Bruce and Selina found out that rain is to Otranto, Italy what crime and corruption once were to the city of Gotham. Give me your weary citizens, your straight-and-narrow followers of the law, your huddled masses yearning to breathe and break free of the grip that a masked man's army left behind…There are as many different kinds of people and circumstances back in Gotham as there are raindrops. There are heavy, fat raindrops that multiply into a steady drizzle. There are thin raindrops that feel like the prick of a needle or the edge of a razor, ganging up on you in a deluge until you're numb from the pain. Sometimes it rains sideways, vertically, diagonally.

Selina notices this as she leans against the window frame of the bathroom, where she's turned her back to Bruce shaving at the sink in preparation for his journey home. She stiffens her spine and watches the rain fall so hard that it barely seems like water anymore. The sloping ground outside, where their property curves down toward the shore line, is so thick with downpour that there's nowhere left for the water to go, and so it sticks around. It's a misty mess in the air, on your skin, clogging your pores and stifling the air you breathe in. It's done nothing to help Selina's gray spirits from lifting.

Bruce has seen the sadness hit her, has watched her become resigned. He wipes his face with a clean towel, dropping it into the laundry chute next to the sink before he comes up behind Selina and encircles her waist with his arms, pulling her back against his bare chest. Selina tries not to equate the rain with his decision; there's nowhere else left to go but back to where it all started. She leans back into his embrace, her rigid posture relaxing a bit when she feels him drop his warm lips against the side of her neck and rumble a sigh into her skin.

She knows this is his way of revolution, his way of helping his successors as Gotham's watchful protectors: you either leave the rain behind, or you watch someone else drown as a result. They've had this conversation many times over the past two weeks, and though each time his reasoning has made more sense to her, it doesn't mean she has to like it.

More than anything, she doesn't like that she won't be at his side. This is the first time they'll be separated since escaping Gotham for Canada and then for Italy, the first time either one will attempt to lie down and sleep at night without the other next to them. All because Selina had to go and do something so strange and completely out-of-character for her: get a job. Or rather, accidentally fall into an offer she couldn't refuse.

"If you were flying commercial, your flight would be delayed," she murmurs pointedly. At this, Bruce turns her in his arms and tips her face up with the crook of his finger under her chin, forcing her gaze to lift and meet his.

"You can relax. Fox found a pilot with plenty of experience flying in rough weather. Besides, we'll clear this storm shortly after we start heading west."

She raises her eyebrows and gives him a pointed look, and he knows that trying to reassure her at this point is an exercise in futility. Loving her, however, is not. He watches her blink and try to look away, watches her teeth mash into her lower lip, and leans down to sooth the pain by taking that swollen lip between his own. She doesn't push him away but doesn't respond to his advances as she normally would, and he persists – his torso shuddering and his shaky breath mixing with hers – until she's reaching up to grab at the wisps of dark hair that tease his neck just behind his ears.

"I'm proud of you," he says when they finally break apart to catch their breath. Despite the fact that he has her crushed between his body and the wall, _she's_ the one framing _his _face, her hands finding his temple and tracing locks of his hair from roots to end.

"Yeah? Why is that?" she asks sarcastically, and she studies the soft ends of his hair that she rubs between her fingers. "Because I'm legally bound to stay behind to reconcile shoe designs for some fashion-crazed women who don't have an original thought of their own?"

His arms tighten around her, his mouth set in a firm line with the expression he adopts when she sells herself short. "It's more than that, and you know it. Imagine how many people are going to be wearing your designs soon. All because you dared to stick a serrated blade into your boots back in Gotham and pass them off as heels."

He attempts to kiss her again, but she shrugs out of his embrace and ducks behind him, pacing the length of their marble bathroom floor. "I never should have agreed to sell the design," she rants almost disgustedly. "Those boots were one of the only ties I had left to my past life, and now a bunch of over-starved, little Italian waifs are going to be tripping around on bladed stilettos trying to pretend they're badass and sexy."

"I think _you're_ badass and sexy," he muses as he stalks forward and traps her again with her back against the vanity. The coolness of the stone seeps through the thin fabric of her black halter top, and she shivers as he runs his hands up her bare arms and trails past her ear with his lips. "Selina Kyle is the _original_ badass and sexy. Anyone else is just a cheap imitation. They can all wear your shoes, Selina, but you're the only one who can fit them."

His tone drops into that lower register she's familiar with, and Selina feels his voice more than she hears it…feels it pulling deep in her gut, starting the churn of a familiar ache that only Bruce Wayne can satisfy. She makes the mistake of meeting his gaze, and this signals the start of another round of goodbyes.

His knees tango with hers as he lifts her up and sits her on the edge of the vanity, forcing her to spread her skirted legs wide for him. The air whooshes out of her as the _thud_ of the impact rattles her thin frame, and she's vaguely dwarfed by the hint of aftershave as heat coils around their bodies and in between. He's gentle but demanding, then, as he wraps his arms around her and kisses her thoroughly, taking his time to work her up just _enough_ before he reaches to unbutton the fly of his jeans.

The annoying fabric around her legs tents her ability to visually see what he's doing, but she certainly _feels_ his fingers push aside her panties a moment later, and they both groan as he guides his hand under her ass, angling her just before he spears her in a single thrust . Then she hears her voice practically begging him, begging him to move as he settles for a moment before desperation overcomes him. His hands find the frame of the mirror behind her, and it gives him leverage as her legs squeeze his waist and he runs himself into her over and over.

Both are only slightly aware of the somewhat needy words tumbling from their lips as he slows their frantic pace. But then Selina is wishing that, just once, he would let desire tear him open, let him find that space she's built within herself that is only _his_ for the taking. In their months of lovemaking, she has felt his urgency and has bared the brunt of some of his more desperate actions, but he's always kept his uninhibited side slightly veiled from her…the only mask she has yet to slip from his beautiful face. Her fingers chase down his slick back, and she squeezes him inside as she attempts to pull him in until there's nothing left. Until there is no Selina, no Bruce, but the two of them as one, a single being in the chaos that has recently become their life.

Despite her best efforts, he takes them to the end in a gentle but humming rush of thrusts and tremors, panting and buzzed nerves, his warmth seeping through her abdomen as he whispers loving words against the nape of her neck and laps at the beads of sweat that have collected there. She feels his pulsing subside and they are perfectly still for several long, breathless moments…her head still thrown back, eyes shut, their breaths evening out as she gently runs her fingers through his hair and massages his scalp just the way she knows he likes it – soft at the temples, a little more rough in the back. It's been a month since he's suffered a headache as a result of his post-concussion syndrome, and he swears her expert touches are the reason.

It's only when she feels him slip out of her and she opens her eyes to watch him adjust his clothing, that she feels the full onslaught of the sense of loneliness that will plague her in his absence. She knows that Alfred has volunteered to stay behind with her, and though she'll be grateful for the company, she's afraid that Bruce's ever-loyal butler and father figure has committed himself more out of a sense of duty than desire. Selina Kyle has never been anyone's pet project.

She feels Bruce running a warm washcloth along the inside of her thighs, and she watches him with a hooded gaze that soaks in everything about him: the defined lines at the corners of his mouth and at the center of his forehead, the flush that still lingers on his cheeks, the rise and fall of the mole at the center of his neck, just over his Adam's Apple. Looking back, it seems senseless to her now that months ago, she was fighting him about coming here, about trying to start any semblance of a "normal" life together. Then, _together_ had seemed a foreign concept to her. Now, _apart_is just as foreign.

Her gaze never wavers as he gently drops her legs and tugs at her skirt until she looks proper again – as proper as she could have looked considering their impromptu romp – and he feels her piercing stare burning into him as he looks up at her, drawing her into another slow kiss before he finally detaches himself from her for good. If he doesn't slip a shirt over his head and leave now, he might never get the nerve to leave at all.

"I love you," he reconfirms, one hand resting on her knee as he backs away toward the hall. The hall where his bags are waiting. She covers his hand with her own until his fingers slip away, then she stands on shaky legs and watches him go.

* * *

"**Miss. Kyle."**

Selina stopped in her tracks as she crept toward the front door, wincing at the tone that Alfred had used, his voice cutting across the long room that they stood at opposite ends of.

She turned around expressionless, like she'd just been busted in the middle of a heist, to observe him walking toward her from the kitchen archway. He held the same poker face, however, clearly already anticipating her initial reaction of _no_ reaction.

"If you're going to continue to sneak out before the sun comes up, spend all bloody day at your office and slink back in at night with nary a bite to eat or a wink of sleep in the interim, perhaps you'd might like to sign off on my unemployment paperwork before you depart today. Seeing as how Master Bruce will have my hide upon his return."

Selina turned her red lips up at the corners, rolling her eyes slightly and shaking her head as she stood with one hand on her hip, the other on the door frame. "If Bruce asked you to follow me, I hope you make up something a little more imaginative about how I've been spending my time. That'll _really_ get him going."

"I will do no such thing, Miss. I've already done enough tussling with Master Wayne in my lifetime, thank you very much."

"The two of you _really_ need to lighten up," Selina sighed as she pulled her purse tighter against her side. "I'm eating. I'm sleeping. And with all due respect, I didn't sign up for a babysitter."

"And with all due respect to _you_, Miss Kyle, you'll kindly drop that tone of voice. It's been quite a while since I've had to give a verbal tongue-lashing, but don't you underestimate my ability to do so."

Selina's eyes sparked at the challenge from the older man. She could see how Bruce had fallen into the straight-and-narrow when he could have gone in another direction. What she still couldn't get used to after all this time in Italy, however, was Alfred coming to care for her the way he cared for his longtime friend.

She moved away from the door and took several steps toward him, appreciating the fact that his blue eyes never strayed from her. He looked ready to pounce and stop her from leaving, if necessary. "So while _you're_ making sure that _I'm_ surviving without Bruce Wayne, who's keeping _you_ in one piece? You should be in Gotham with him, too."

"It would serve you best not to worry about me, Miss. Master Wayne trusted that I would look after the most important person in his world, and I've been trying to do so, to the best of my ability. If she would stay under this roof longer than the time it would take her to pick a lock."

Her eyes softened at the confession in the middle of his statement, and he knows he has rendered her momentarily powerless in the wake of it. She shouldn't have been stunned that he felt secure enough again in regards to his own relationship to Bruce, that he would relinquish his perch at the top of the Wayne pedestal for the woman he knew Bruce Wayne cared for more than the air he breathed. But stunned, she was.

"You know, the two of us make a pretty sorry sight, don't we? Standing around and waiting for him to come back, like we don't know what to do without him?"

Selina situated herself on the corner of one of the sitting room's several pieces of furniture – an olive-green loveseat that she and Bruce had picked out together. It had been one of the few items for the house they'd both agreed on at first sight, wanting their home to be stylish yet comfortable and casual. She ran her fingers up and down the armrest, remembering the day she'd helped him move it in and how he'd joked that they'd eventually get around to christening it. As of yet, they hadn't; most of their escapades had been kept to private rooms since Alfred had taken up residence with them.

"If you don't mind my observation, I think a bit of independence suits you just fine, Miss Kyle. You know, I told Master Wayne…quite a long time ago…that if he started pretending to have fun, he might even have a little by accident. I think that for all of the resistance you put up, you actually get on quite well in your new role as a career woman."

She made a face and Alfred patted her hand reassuringly. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

"I don't hate it, if that's the kind of information you're looking for."

Alfred dropped his hands into the pockets of his slacks and gave her a wink. "Not prying, Miss. And I would certainly hope that you don't hate it. Putting so much time and effort into something that merely placates you rather than pleases you wouldn't suit you in the least."

"Yeah, well…it helps pay my share around here," Selina mumbled as she looked away, embarrassed.

"Do you think that's what Bruce expects of you?"

Alfred's gaze was ripe with gentle compassion that Selina had rarely ever been treated with throughout her life, and inside of her head she counted her inhalations and exhalations in an effort not to let the older man get the better of her emotions. In the short time they'd known one another, Selina had found that, like Bruce, Alfred could read her without sense or reason. But often, he was also the calm without the pressure, the pillar of support who listened without judging, the gentle hand that steered her in the right direction even if she wouldn't come close enough to let him touch her.

"Look, I just…I know he's not made of money anymore, okay? We've been here for months and he's spent half of whatever he had left of his fortune on expensive medical treatments , this house, other trips we've taken…"

Selina let her voice drift off, the hard clip in her tone dying with it as Alfred calmly regarded her with a patient look that seemed to ask, _Is that all?_

"Miss Kyle, what do you think that Master Wayne spends all of his time doing since you've decided to join the working world? Aside from moping around missing you and having me tell him to get up off of his arse?"

Selina smiled ruefully at Alfred's ever-polite way of butchering every curse word in the English language. She was certain that he must wince every time she let a four-letter word slip, without thought, from between the lips of a woman who had grown up Gotham's harshest streets.

"I don't know. What _does_ he do all day, besides his typical few hundred pushups?"

"Well, for one, he's spent a good bloody bulk of time on the video chat with Mr. Fox, sorting out the financial mess that he left behind at Wayne Enterprises. But they've also been working on some outside investments that may help to secure his financial future. It's all in the pacing, Miss. You mustn't worry yourself with details of how much you need to contribute, and when. If you're going to work, he wants to see you doing it because you enjoy the challenge. Not because you feel like you have no choice."

She raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow at him. "You sure he wants you telling me all of this? It's not like he's been very _forthcoming_ about the hours he keeps while I'm away."

"I think he's been hoping that you'd take an interest, actually. He just didn't see the point in worrying you with it while you were going through an adjustment period."

Selina grumbled silently to herself. _Adjustment period _was a clever way of saying that Bruce was tiptoeing around her, afraid to bombard her with too many details since he had inundated her with travel, sickness and setting up their living arrangements sinc e they'd been in Italy. She wanted to give Bruce Wayne hell, but then an even better idea crossed her mind. Glancing over at Alfred with the sweetest , most sincere look she could muster, she let her entire face relax into a radiant smile as she questioned him.

"Actually…it's probably a good idea if I go see the results of his hard work in person, don't you think? Pay Gotham a little visit?"

Alfred's mouth went dry. This wasn't a direction he'd expected this conversation to take. "Well, Miss, I think it would be best if you were to stay secure here in Italy. Master Wayne will only be away but a few more days, and I'm sure he'd be more than happy to fill you in once he returns home. He'd also be right worried sick if he were under the impression that you were traveling to Gotham."

"Oh." Selina shrugged and stood from the couch, feigning disappointment as she looked out the window at the vast expanse of the low hillside that rolled into beach in the distance. Gotham was the last place she'd ever want to go after living with a view like this, but now she couldn't keep down the idea nagging at the back of her mind. "I guess he _would _be pretty busy with Fox and with Blake, wouldn't he? I'd probably just be in the way…"

"Well, he and Mister Blake have been working on securing up the cave and moving Mr. Blake's permanent facilities over into the old Saint Swithens building. So I'd imagine that yes, he does have his hands full at the moment."

Selina's ears perked up. This was the second time she'd heard mention of a cave. Once had been from Bruce, very early on in their…relationship. Now to hear it told from another source piqued her curiosity.  
She quickly made up her mind about her next course of action and began to walk back toward the staircase that led to she and Bruce's bedroom, leaving a worried Alfred fretting toward her retreating form.

"Miss, where do you presume you're going?" he called after her.

She glanced over her shoulder. "To pack my bag," she quipped.

"Miss Kyle, if you think that I'm going to lie to Master Wayne if he inquires as to your whereabouts-"

"I'm not asking you to lie!" she called loudly as she disappeared from his view. "Besides, it's not like he won't know where to find me when I get there."

* * *

Contrary to what Bruce had been trained for and what he had been led to believe through most of his life as the Batman, human beings are not nearly as resilient in a fight as one would expect. Take away rules and mouth guards, gloves and knuckle and rib tape, and even professional fighters would probably drop in a few minutes against someone determined to lay them out cold. Adrenaline can help any fighter for a little while, but it takes a lot of power to move arms and legs at the level that it would take to inflict damage on someone. He had learned this not just as Batman, but even prior to that, while regretfully training with the League of Shadows. Once the first few hits and swift kicks are out of the way, humans tire.

That first initial burst of violence can be brutal, but can it sustain?

He wants John Blake to think about this as they spar in a state-of-the-art gym in what used to be the city's boys' home before all of the kids were moved to their new residence at Wayne Manor. They have now spent days training, with Bruce expertly but carefully showing Blake everything he'd come to know as the city's masked protector. Or, as much as his healing body would let him show. But it had been hours of sweat, and the building's perfectly restored interiors didn't betray that hard work had gone down here.

The floors were still scuff-free, the mats still uncrinkled and in pristine condition, the scent of testosterone not even prevalent in the air. It would take a lot more than this to get Blake to where he needed to be, and Bruce was more than ready to turn him over to hand-to-hand combat experts that Fox and Gordon had both found in the wake of Batman leaving Gotham.

Bruce also knows that Fox will personally work with Blake to ensure that every fiber of his costume is just right. That as Gotham's new guardian, he will not want for any kind of tool, gadget or technology that will help him to do his job better and alleviate any difficulties he may face in bringing down those who still railed against peace within the confines of the city limits.

He watches from across the room as Blake sucks down nearly an entire bottle of water, wiping sweat from his brow as he does so, and Bruce chuckles to himself as he realizes that his advice about over-hydration went right in one ear and out the other. _Good thing your living quarters are but a floor away, kid_, he thought as he watched his friend's slip into exhaustion. _You're too much like me already. Learning every lesson the hard way._

Hearing the chirp of his cell phone sounding at him from a nearby folding chair jars Bruce out of his thoughts, and he reaches for it eagerly. He hadn't heard from Selina in nearly a full day's time, and it was unlike her to be out of touch for so long since he'd been away. In the first few days, they had kept up a steady stream of calls and messages back and forth, and she was the only thing keeping him hooked to even the thinnest line of sanity as he dealt with being back in a city he wasn't sure he'd ever intended on returning to.

The incoming text message, however, was coming from Lucius Fox.

ARE YOU AWARE THAT THERE'S BEEN A SECURITY BREACH IN THE FOUNDATION LEVELS BELOW THE MANOR?

Bruce wiped a hand over his face, exhausted. This was definitely _not_ what he felt like dealing with today.

THANKS. I'M ON IT. came his quick reply, and he stood and signaled at Blake as he began moving toward the door.

"There's been a situation," he explained as he exited. "Message from Fox. I'll be back in touch."

Despite the fact that darkness had befallen the early evening sky, he tossed a black hooded sweatshirt and sunglasses on as he strode away with purpose, never breaking his focus as he moved to his vehicle parked at the curb. His next stop was the underground entrance into Wayne Tower, where he paused in hesitation just before donning a black suit and cowl that he knew all too well. He never thought he'd need it, want it or wear it again. But going back to the cave undisguised was a bad idea. And thus far, he'd managed to avoid being recognized by anyone on the familiar streets of this city.

He and Blake had all but cleared most of the cave out, so he couldn't begin to imagine _who _or _what _thought they had any business down there. He didn't want to alarm his friend, however, especially when he considered how emotionally attached Blake had gotten to the few hundred children who took up residence in what used to be Bruce's childhood home. If he thought that any one of them might be in the slightest bit of danger, he'd recklessly risk blowing his cover.

_Emotions can be a funny thing when you let them get to you_, Bruce thought. He let his mind wander again to Selina as he navigated the maze of streets that led to his old lair, and he again checked his phone only to discover that there were no missed calls or messages. He distractedly punched her number on the phone and flicked on the speaker feature, his sense of alert heightening when the number was immediately listed as being out of service range.

"Fox, find out where Selina is," he growled when he dialed the next number listed, and then threw his phone across the passenger seat angrily. He could have used the Tumbler at a time like this, when he needed instant access to a computer and a tracer.

He slowed the car just outside of the property line, tracking through the thick brush that surrounded the outskirts of the still well-manicured lawn. His easiest access route was still through the waterfall entrance, and he switched on the night vision inside of the cowl as he quietly stepped through the rushing liquid.

The first thing he picked up on was that the bridges and platforms were no longer submerged, as he and Blake had left them. The main computers had all been removed, so there was no reason for any of the platforms to be raised again, at least not until they were ready to move the last of the furniture out of the back corner bunker.

He knew that if anyone else were really in the cave, it would be too much of a risk to continue plodding through the water. It created too much of a distraction when he considered the noise level and reverberations off of the hard stone walls around him. As quietly and swiftly as he could, he reached up and gripped the middle rail on the side of the raised platform that led to the middle of the cave, easily swinging himself over it. When he landed on both feet, he crouched low and swept the area again, an uneasy feeling settling over him that he couldn't shake. There was definitely someone else in the cave. But—

"Nice of you to finally join me, handsome."

Bruce's head snapped in shock at the familiar voice, which seemed to come from all around him.

What the hell….?

"You're losing your touch, Wayne," she said with a sultry laugh, and he stalked forward, the night vision still betraying him until he was practically upon her.

At the furthest end of the ramp, just inside of the main entrance coming down out of the elevator shaft, the woman he had assumed was thousands of miles away across the ocean – the woman who reached places in him that no one else would ever touch – lay draped across a sofa he used to recognize as his own.

He switched the night vision off as he moved closer, feeling anger and frustration swelling inside of him as it sunk in that she was here. Not just in Gotham, but _here_, of all places – inside of secure chambers that nobody had ever managed to infiltrate in all the time he'd utilized it as his cherished and protected hideaway. On one hand, everything in him screamed with some kind of foreign, unexplainable thrill at her presence. On another hand, he wanted to rail against her for coming into Gotham on her own, where God only knows what could have happened if she had crossed paths with the wrong person. A clean slate could help her anywhere outside of the city, but it couldn't erase every local she'd once come in contact with and double-crossed. Robbed. Manipulated.

He hovered over the back of the sofa and looked down at her, watching her turn on her stomach and throw her head back carelessly, smiling at him lazily as she did so. She was clad in nothing more than the tiniest scraps of black lingerie – a bra and panties – with one of his black t-shirts stretched out over her, barely covering her from the slope of her breasts to the curve of her rear. He felt his traitorous body instantly respond to her, and he was thankful that she couldn't see the full effect she was having on him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice coming out more gruffly than he'd intended. _Damn this infuriating woman for sneaking upon him, in HIS territory, once again._

"Well. _You_ don't seem happy to see me." Selina made a show of stretching gracefully, raising her arms back behind her head and touching her bare toes to the opposite end of the piece of furniture she occupied. "Don't tell me I used all of those frequent flier miles for _nothing_."

A vacant expression creeps across his face, making him hard to read as his stilted stride carries him around to face her. His torso fills with breath. One breath. Two breaths. Three breaths. Selina counts each one purposefully, waiting for him to make his mark after he's finished licking his vicious internal wounds. She wanted to ask if he had plans to leave her alone at that point, leave her lying there absent of his touch and devoid of the fire running through the Batman's veins.

She sits up on her knees and reaches for him, not at all weary of the man in the mask and how he may react to her. Her movements are purposeful, her intentions clear as she delicately touches her fingertips to the raised symbol at the center of his chest, remembering the last time she had been so close to Bruce Wayne's alter ego. She feels him watching her the way a bat would eye its prey – careful, calculated – and she wants to ask him if he remembers, too, the last time she touched him in _this_ suit.

Then he leaned forward and kissed her lips, ripping her question away from her as he plunged deep, sampling the taste of her like something he had been craving and starved of for much longer than the time they had been apart. A deep moan instantly slithered from her throat, but the twist of their movements muffled it until it dissipated on the coattails of their heavy breathing.

She slipped her tongue along the ridges on the roof of her mouth, mingled it with his sliding exploration, gasping at the taste of him, slick and powerful and already different from the way he'd ever kissed her in the past. When he pulled away and roamed down the side of her neck, nipping almost roughly and desperately at the pulse of her jugular, she felt a senseless sort of loss and leaned forward, moaning for another taste. It was then that he pushed her arms low and back behind her, sampling slowly with his lips and teeth and tongue down to her shoulder before coming to a stop. She was mindless, breathless, impassioned, and when she felt something snake around her wrists and looped closed, she didn't think about the implications until she tried to touch him and couldn't.

"What?" she gasped, trying to twist to see behind her and what he'd done. Her lower back and neck whined in complaint as she struggled to see exactly what obstruction held her hand at bay. It was some kind of contraption that resembled handcuffs, but with a looser hold, and more comfortable. But no matter how she twisted her fingers, she couldn't figure a way to get herself free. "What is… Bruce, what?"

"Bat cuffs," he growled. "Maybe you need to learn a lesson about breaking and entering."

He pushed her against the back of the sofa, rolling over her until the back of her neck cut against the arm rest of the piece of furniture. He devastated her with another kiss, squeezing her jaw between his index finger and thumb in a gesture that explained to her that, while in that suit, he was far from the slightly weaker man he'd been since they'd left Gotham. The full weight of him settled against her, pinning her back as he kissed her, kissed her, kissed her again, leaving her with only the option to be swept away by the pleasure he was already pulling from her.

The sudden sound of ripping fabric and the burst of cool air against her midsection had her looking down, dazed, as his gloved hands tore away what little she'd had on when she surprised him with her appearance. Then he was staring at her, a desirous darkness overriding his normal, loving gaze as he evaluated his handiwork. Her breasts were on display for him, her hardened nipples beckoning, and she was unable to do much more than let him look, wishing he would touch her, or do something other than just stare. But _that _look – one she had been longing to see on him for far too long – sent a throb of lust through her lower body, and she swallowed.

"You missed a spot," she taunted. Testing him. Wanting to see if he'd snap.

Seline was rewarded when his expression devolved into a hardened smirk as he slipped his fingers underneath the front lace of her panties. She moaned, kicking slightly with her feet in a spasm of pleasure. "Stop. Talking," he growled, but the command wasn't necessary.

He put light pressure down with his thumb, and she bucked, trying to slide into it in a vain effort to fill the void between her legs. She wanted him. She wanted him inside of her _right now_. A gasp tore from her lips as he yanked the garment down and tossed it away.

Then there came the slightest crackling sounds, coupled with what sounded like air being released from a balloon, and she watched him through heavy eyes as pieces of his beautiful black armor began to fall away. First came the chest protector, revealing his perfectly sculpted and scarred – but thankfully no longer bruised – skin beneath. Then he hurriedly stripped away the arm guards, letting each piece of the suit fall at his feet in complete disregard.

She wanted to tell him to keep the cowl on. There was something about it that made him look wild, untamed, like the man who'd jumped to fight alongside of her on a roof the year prior. But even after he pulled it off, she realized that for now, he still wore it. This was the man who had whisked her away in his crazy flying contraption – focused on one goal, undeterred, the "powerful friend" she had been longing to meet. His forehead and cheeks were sweaty and crimson, but his eyes were mysterious, layered and complex.

_Well, well, Batman…we meet again_, she thought to herself approvingly. As if on cue, she heard the rustling of winged creatures flapping in the highest points of the cavern that surrounded them, but she was only able to make out their shadows as she let her eyes drift north for just the slightest second.

It was just enough of a distraction that she missed Bruce resettling on his knees on the couch in front of her, his body hitching as though it were a difficult task to keep himself away, a task which he failed at when he slanted toward her, cupping her breasts with his still-gloved hands. He wound a hot, warm trail down her sides, to the dip of her waist and the swell of her hips. He hooked his hands under her knees and pulled her forward, inch by inch. It wasn't uncomfortable. The lone pillow slid down with her, and the sofa back kept her head forward, looking. Looking at him and nowhere else. Not that anything in that vast space mattered beyond him and the way he was handling her. Hungry. Sure of himself, but out of control.

She slid her wrists against the thick plastic and metal that bound them, wishing she could lean forward and participate, but they went taut as he inched her closer, and her whole torso sloped away from him like a canvas waiting to be touched. He was so close, so close and hot and strong, and she – in a rare moment of Selina Kyle being helpless – was at his mercy. She breathed, short, tight, clipped, as he nudged her in the small of her knees until the only comfortable way for her to sit was to hook her legs over his shoulders, offering him what he most desired.

He wrapped his arms over her legs, splayed his warm palms against her inner thighs, and spread her wide before his eyes. His cloth-covered fingers ran along her skin, stroking the taut, smooth flesh, and then he blew softly on the moistened, swollen cleft between. She tilted her head back, moaning as he stripped her of her senses.

"You're so beautiful," he said, his tone low and shivery as he rested his cheek on the inner bend of her thigh and inhaled the scent of her. "You're beautiful, Selina," he said, the barest whisper of vibration. He stared up at her along the line of her belly, nose resting a bare inch from the mound of sex below her navel. He stroked an index finger against the side of her leg, and she couldn't help but twitch. A dark lust hooded his eyes with the movement.

"Bruce," she moaned.

He blinked, long and slow, his eyes now torn with a desperation that betrayed the calm look plastered across his face. Their eyes met for a moment, time seemed to rip to shreds, and she hovered in the silence, breathing, watching his plans unfold one by one across his face. _Had he been thinking about this, _she wondered, _before she even showed up in Gotham?_ His eyes narrowed, and he gave her a wanting, needing look that peeled away every last inch of her skin as though he were making a perfect copy of her in his mind for later recall.

This was going to be…

"You will _never_ forget your return trip to Gotham," he growled.

His fingers roughly gripped the skin that connected her legs to her torso, and his face disappeared from view. "Shit!" she hissed when she felt his tongue bisect her, only to have her breath fall away as he laved her with slippery, sliding, wandering attention. She jerked, only to still in the vice of his iron grip around her thighs. He groaned as she bent her knees and pulled, helpless to do anything but try to find an outlet, an outlet for the pleasure winding through her lower body. She thrust forward, trying to put pressure where there was only touch, but instead of responding to her desperate pleas, he jerked his head up and let out a grunting breath before resuming his task.

"Oh. Oh oh…fuck. FUCK," she moaned as his fingers flexed against her skin. The tip of his tongue slipped deep into her folds, and she gasped. "Ohhh, please. Please, Bruce."

A deep, rumbling sound tore through him. "You're mine," he said.

Selina squeezed her thighs helplessly as she reached the beginning of a peak. Tension coiled in her gut, and she couldn't help but present herself more eagerly, opening herself, pushing into him until her wrists and back were aching and her fingers started to tingle with numbness. She was lost to it, lost to everything but the moaning, "Oh please, please, please," that she hoped would bring her to the explosion at the end of it. He licked her until every muscle shivered with it, and she thought she would die if something didn't happen soon. Anything. "Bruce. Bruce. Bruce," she continued, a mantra, unable to stop the tension winding up…

He pulled away, grunting softly as he caught his breath.

"No," she commanded, jerking helplessly against her bonds. She tightened her legs and tried to drive him back into her, but she had no leverage, and he was prepared for her protests.

He smirked at her, and somewhere in the roar, she heard the faintest sound of something _humming_, but she couldn't make out where it was coming from, or why. The sound grew louder as he reached a hand up to push her sweaty tangles away from her face, the pitch of the noise now a veritable _buzz _that seemed to fall closer to her ear as he stroked her right cheek.

"What?" she gasped, trying to focus. Focus on anything except the fact that Bruce had left her bereft and unfinished.

He slowly pulled his hand away from her face and held up his fingers in front of her eyes, turning his hand back and forth so that she could concentrate on his ministrations. She swallowed sharply as she realized what he was showing her.

"Finger taser," he whispered as the buzzing began to supplement the roar in her ears. "Except I deactivated the taser and now they just…vibrate."

In less time than it took her to react, he shoved his hand between her legs and cupped her, pressing the pads of his fingers against her clit. Vibrations tore through her, sending her winding toward the top in moments, flailing, clawing.

"Bruce!" she hissed, almost pushed over the edge, but then it all stopped when he lifted the tip of his middle finger millimeters away. She moaned, trying to make sense of what he was doing, and why he was doing it to her. Why couldn't he just let her finish?

_Because you deserve it_, a tiny voice of reason snarled through her mind. _You did this to him_. _You didn't tell him you were coming to Gotham, and all this time you wanted to make love to the Batman. Now you got your wish, Selina. Careful what you wish for…_ _now you're just nonsensical and begging and SO not in control_. Her eyes watered as she fought to rub her thighs together to bring herself to release, but his other hand held her knees apart, seeming to taunt her in the process.

"Don't stop," she whispered, needy. But her imploring words caressed the air between them far too late to do anything but make him smirk.

An eyebrow quirked in inquiry as he pulled his hand even further away, showing her the circular button-style design on the on the tips of his fingers. He tilted them toward her, his palm up, letting her see firsthand the evidence of her arousal on the cloth.

"You see the great thing about this glove?" he asked, haughty, but with deep desire still stuttering his tone. "There are a few different settings. You haven't even _begun_ to feel yet tonight, Selina."

He pressed a slightly raised "plus" button on the inside of his index finger, and the _hum_ got louder as her eyes got wider. "Which setting do you think you'll like?" he asked, his voice low and deep as he peered down at her groin as though it were a puzzle to solve. He pressed his fingers into her again and then he began to draw them in slow, firm circles that had her practically blind from the pleasure. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't… It was barely…

"Hmm," he murmured, his eyes lighting at her predicament . "Too low." He manipulated his fingers as he increased the pressure, and the feeling of shivering movement sank deep into her core. She groaned, prompting a pleasured, rumbling laugh from him.

"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuuuck," she hissed as she felt herself scrabbling at the pinnacle.

He leaned and kissed the inside of her kneecap that was still slung on his shoulder, but he could see that every cell of her body was tensed, waiting. He had drawn this out long enough.

He withdrew his hand and then gripped her low on her thighs, somehow forcing her legs further apart, then plowed a vibrating finger deep inside of her and massaged her into oblivion. In that moment, he snapped the release and let her go.

She screamed, her cries echoing off of the cave walls as the sensation evolved into something almost like pain, except it felt…so…fucking wonderful. So beyond description that it racked her with tremors that wouldn't stop, and her breaths tightened into a woeful-sounding pitch that went straight to his groin as she rocked against his hand. Air tore through her lungs, but it didn't seem like it was enough. Everything below was tight and twisting and burning.

He reached behind her and unbound her wrists, and she hung limply against the side of the sofa. He then scooped her up as though she were weightless, carrying her across the long expanse of the cave's elevated walkway before she could even think to protest that he shouldn't be lifting her. Everything spun around her in a silent tumble, and she felt... beyond description. Buzzing with the high he had taken her to. So alive were her nerve endings that she barely registered that he had entered some other kind of secret room and laid her gently across a bed that sat in the otherwise mostly dark, empty space.

She shivered against the chill in the air as he shed the confines of the protective shell of the uniform around his legs. Then he pulled her body against his and held her until her sensation of being attached to her body returned. He was beyond hard. Hard, ready, and pressing against her still dripping and aching, tender flesh, breathing softly against her as though watching her fight her way toward her release was as difficult for him to watch without filling her as it was for her to endure without being able to claw at him.

He grunted, and it rumbled against her frame. He grunted with every breath until they both recovered enough to speak. "Are you sorry that you came to Gotham without telling me? For making me worry about you?" he asked. His eyes glinted with something that seemed more animal than human, but she caught the distress in his tone and knew the words were coming from his heart.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, barely able to hold onto thought. "I missed you. I missed…_us_."

Her simple declaration was almost his undoing. And when she slid herself up against him, soft and slippery against his stiffness, he moaned. A dire, serious, desperate tone making her feel like a quicksand that would drown him if she pushed. If she pushed… She moved against him, writhed until he panted, regaining his senses after several false starts, and the world spun as he tossed her flat on the bed, a dangerous, wild grimace flaring across his features.

"Oh, no you don't," he said, his tone deep and heavy. "You haven't given me the whole answer yet. Are you mine, Selina? " He leaned down, pressing his weight onto her, but keeping his erection far from her thrusting efforts. "I need to hear you say it," he prompted. "I need to know that I'll always know where you are from here on out."

She bit her lip and arched her torso in a perfect, effortless bridge until her stomach brushed his firm silk. The she wound her arms around his neck and learned against his ear, the soft, day-old prickly stubble swathing his cheeks rasping at her skin. "I'm yours, Bruce," she promised with a hot whisper. "Just don't leave without me again, and you'll never have to wonder where I am. Just know that _if _you leave, I'll always come find you."

He rolled her back against the pillows and his full weight came down on her as he straddled her and gazed at her in wonder, his pupils dilated, his expression somewhat dazed. He wanted her. He wanted to take her. Desperate. Dominant. Demanding. Loving. Hard. Soft. Each side of his psyche shot arguments across his expression.

"You're mine," he finally growled softly, framing her face with his now-bare hands. Her skin quivered beneath his touch and he drew his thumb across her full bottom lip. "You're mine, and I need you Selina. I need you."

He kissed her, running his lips against her soft, freckled skin, pausing to suck and tease and worship every speck of imperfection. He dragged her into him as he folded around her like a wave, until she couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't focus on anything except the fact that she seemed to be stuck in permanent, unending, discordant pleasure that wouldn't relax into any sort of harmony. Her arousal was like a tide to the rhythm of his body. The flow between them was a constant rise and ebb. Every centimeter of her skin was molded to his, except for where she needed him to be.

For a moment.

He took her breath away as he a sudden savagery overtook his movements, his groping hands trailing firmly down her back until he dug into her flesh and turned her over on her stomach, then pulled her up on all fours. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to wait when it comes to you?" he asked against her ear as he pulled her toward him, his throbbing length settling against her ass.

"About as hard as it is for me to wait for you," she replied, gasping at the sensation, hair flying up into her face. He reached and took the entire mass of her long locks in his left hand and tugged gently before he flipped it all down over her right shoulder. She put weight back into her ankles as she lifted her torso and ground back against him, and a whoosh of surprised air escaped his mouth as her legs parted instinctively.

"It is. Hard," he said, and then he slid into her waiting heat.

The electric anticipation she'd felt fleeted in the assault of his immediately harsh, sharp thrusts, but he caught her with warm palms against her breast and stomach, and the mix of sensations caused her cry out and arch back against him, pushing against him to accept his full length every time he nestled his straining cock inside of her.

"Harder, Bruce," she whispered as she felt him nip at the back of her neck.

He didn't need much coaxing. He revolved around her in that moment, worshipped her, until no part of her body was left untouched and no part of her insides couldn't feel the friction of his pumping action. The heat of him soaked her through, his loud moans causing soft, tight gasps to slip from her lips, and she jerked at the sensation that forked through her like bits of lightning every time he roughly speared her.

"Bruce," she said.

"Mmm," he replied.

"Please," she said. "Please."

"You need it?"

"I need you."

"I know," he whispered gruffly.

His palms slipped up around her hips, and he pulled out of her long enough to turn her on her left side. Then he slid behind her and lifted her right leg under the knee, teasing her entrance before ramming back home. She tilted her head to watch the concentration on his face, reaching her hand back to slide her fingers into his hair. She wanted to watch him while he took her, while he claimed her, while he finally let himself loose.

He adjusted himself for leverage, planting one foot flat on the bed while he continued to pound into her mercilessly, the piece of furniture they occupied shaking against the wall hard enough to leave an impression. His deep, satisfied grunt accented the stop in his forward thrust, and he hovered inside her for a moment as she squeezed around him, sighing at the feel of him sheathed deep within her core. Then he reached around to rub her clit while he ground against her desperately, and a hitching sigh fell from her mouth. She felt raw, raw and decimated as she gave in to the pulsing crush of their desire and squeezed around him tightly, the gush of their fluids seeping out of her and down her leg as his fingers spread their release against her sex and he continued to pump in and out of her with his slackened jaw resting on her shoulder and his eyes closed.

"Fucking… Fuck. God, Bruce…," she hissed, twisting against him as her legs shivered and her right leg that rested high gave way, coming down to relax as his length still stroked her from the inside out.

When he finally came to a stop, they both felt melted and boneless, but they wouldn't have moved for anything. She burrowed into the crook of his arm, breathing in the warm, sweat-slickened scent of him as she rubbed her fingers over his skin, touching, touching everywhere to replace all the burning moments of wanting that had built up while they had been separated.

She felt him kiss the side of her face, then her neck. But she knew that Bruce Wayne had returned and the Batman was gone when he slid an arm around her and rested a hand over her heart, satisfied when both of theirs beat in perfect unison. She sighed contentedly in response and thought about how her meeting with the masked man had been brief, but the consequences of her break-in were altogether worth it.

It had been the best punishment she'd ever received for her crimes.


End file.
